The Harry Potter Files
by silverfox98
Summary: A soon-to-be 30 chapter Harry Potter collection for KeepDreamingLily's challenge! Each chapter stars a prompt. Features many different pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Challenge: 30 Harry Potter Prompts

Character/Pairing: Train Director

Summary: A complete (hopefully) collection of all things Harry Potter!

A/N: I'll put the prompt, as well as the word count at the end of the page. Hopefully, I'll update every day. This will feature all kinds of pairings! This story has no real "pairing" but it stars the invisible train director who drives the magical train to Hogwarts!

…

No one ever did notice the train director. Everyone was always too busy saying good bye to parents and relatives-whether tearfully or stoic- and saying hello to friends that they had not seen over the summer. With all the hugging and kissing going around as first years boarded with apprehension, and seventh years bouncing in, excited for their last year before heading out into the real world, it was no wonder why no one ever paid attention to who was actually driving the magical train.

As the smoke billowed out of the engine, train rolling smoothly on the tracks into the platform, the director just watched, staying in his own little compartment, content to just watch as students and teachers clambered in, laughing and chattering excitedly. Parents smiling and giving last minute advice, young siblings crying and waving as their brothers or sisters boarded, all the director watched with impassivity. If anything, the graying man might just be one of the most powerful men out there.

People never did do the train, or director, justice. He was always there, without fail, at Platform 9 ¾ every year, waiting to pick up all the students who came to Hogwarts after all. No one stopped to wonder, _without a train, what would happen?_ This old man was always there to make sure the train ran smoothly, polishing its blasting engine, doing test runs around the castle, and cleaning the compartments for the next year of students.

Even when the Demetors attacked the train, in search of the infamous Sirus Black, even when the Death Eaters took over, the train was always there. And with the train came the director. Always there, always waiting, ready to embark on the trip back to Hogwarts.

...

The oncoming war had no affect on him as he made the yearly journey back to the Platform. No doubt a good half of the students would not be attending school this year, and the other half would make the train deathly quiet, but the director still pulled in and waited, as slowly and surely, the kids started drifting in, parents at the back. The adult's faces were tense, as if expecting a Dark Wizard to spring up any moment as they ushered reluctant students onto the train. So this year, the director did things a little different this year.

He stood at the entrance, in the shadows, nodding to any who noticed him lurking as he watched each student, making sure they all boarded the train safely. Only a one redhead boarded the train this year, not noticing his presence, as she rushed in, in search of an empty compartment. A mere scrap of a boy with the whitest hair he had ever seen stalked in, head held high, but his eyes spoke a different story. The ethereal grey eyes were wary as he rushed in, and into the compartment that _just_ happened to contain the youngest Weasley girl. The director couldn't help but grin, turning to see a boy running with a blonde-haired girl in pursuit. A spacey blonde strolled through at her own pace, lost in her own fantasy as she turned and greeted him with a soft smile. The trains whistle blew for the third time, so he hurried away from the girl, leaving her to drift away in search of another.

As he drove the magical train back to Hogwarts, the director couldn't stop grinning, for reason unknown to everyone, but himself. Oh, this year would be different, there was just no doubt.

And in the compartments, students whispered uneasy questions, letting soft voices float through the train. No one knew the definite answer, _Why was Filch there to greet the students this year?_

…

**Prompt**: Platform 9 ¾

**Word Count**: 619


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So I just decided to skip all the summaries and everything and head straight to the author notes! At the bottom will be the pairing (if any), prompt, and word count. Thank you to Karla for the lovely review! My very first one! I'm going to try to update this every day so I can finish it in 30 days or less. At least that's my plan... :) On with the story! Was very fun to write.

…

"You wouldn't believe it Pansy! He was so romantic, with the flowers and the candles-" Astoria trailed off, eyes glazed as she stared dreamily into the horizon. The two ladies sat under a parasol outside one of wizarding London's more upscale cafes. The duo sipped their drinks (Pansy, a glass of mulled wine, Astoria delicately sipping a mug of Earl grey) as they traded gossip and whatnot. In truth, Pansy just listened, not paying any attention as the younger witch prattled on about how romantic her new fiance was, how beautiful the night had been and how excited she was for the oncoming wedding.

When she had agreed to meet the girl, Pansy had not, in the least, expected to be ambushed, finger being waved in her face as Astoria talked on and on about her new engagement and how she will soon be the next Mrs. Malfoy. That in itself was a disaster waiting to happen. The ring Draco bought was loud and ostentatious, jewels seeming to grow out of the gold band. In other words, perfect for Astoria. It wasn't quite her taste exactly, and she knew, Draco abhored showy, large jewelery, but he would do anything to keep the bint happy as long as she didn't create another public scandal. The last time Astoria was not satisfied with the truly massive closet she was given in her suite, she had stormed into a local bar and demanded some alcohol. Draco found her three hours later grinding against a stranger, drunk out of her mind. The press had a field day, printing article after article of scandalous news for weeks, and Astoria had certainly felt Draco's wrath. Thankfully, nothing that drastic had happened again, but it would only be a matter of time before one of them snapped from all the tension. And not the good kind.

She called over to the waitress, this time ordering a glass of pumpkin juice as Astoria kept talking about the latest fashion. Sipping the liquid delicately, Pansy watched as the immensely annoying girl took a breath and started on the latest jewelry. Two minutes more of listening to the incessant talking, Pansy resigned. With a grimace and sigh, she fell back, ordered another glass of wine, figuring the pumpkin juice wouldn't cut it, and prayed her death would come quickly.

…

Two years later, Pansy found herself in almost the exact same position, sipping a glass of gin and watching as Astoria steadily worked herself into a frenzy, green eyes flashing, washed out skin slowly turning an unattractive shade of red.

"Don't yell, dear," she murmured, watching in fascination as the liquid swirled, "It's unbecoming." If possible, Astoria's pale face glowed an even brighter shade of red,

"How dare Draco call off the marriage? Why would Draco divorce _me_?" She cried, hysterical, as Pansy watched impassive.

"Oh Astoria, I'm sure he has his reasons." Pansy sighed, watching Astoria dab at the corners of her heavily lined eyes. She started thinking, _Maybe cause you're a crazy, manipulative bitch who makes a scene when you don't get you're way_. But of course, she didn't say that. She had a reputation to uphold after all. Astoria just kept on talking, completely ignoring the obvious distaste Pansy had for the brown-haired girl.

"After he _publicly _humiliated me, in a restaurant of all places, all I could do was throw a cup of pumpkin juice in his face and stain his precious shirt!" Astoria seethed as Pansy inwardly grinned at the irony, oh Draco was brilliant. An evil genius even. Humiliate the girl publicly like she humiliated him.

"I had no other way of compensation! And do you know what the bastard did? Do you?" Pansy just hurumph-ed noncommittally, _A cocktail sounds good at the moment..._

"He had the gall to laugh, Pansy! Laugh! At me! Astoria Greengrass!" Pansy smirked, shaking her head at the ignorant girl,

"I was never so humiliated!" Astoria went on about how the pumpkin juice probably ruined his shirt and started to list a million different and creative ways she would kill the man. Pansy just shrugged as the girl started screeching in her ear and turned a deft eye towards the bar, willing a bottle to somehow, levitate over.

"I'm sure he never meant to be cruel, maybe you two just weren't compatible." But Pansy knew better, Draco wanted Astoria to hurt, and hurt bad. So, he dumped her in the worst way possible. Publicly. He hated her just as much, even more, than Pansy hated Astoria...It was a win-win situation. After this night, Astoria would surely go off, looking for another suitor, leaving both of them alone in peace.

So Pansy fell back, beckoning a waitress over like so long before, ordered a glass of that delicious looking wine beckoning her, and waited, hoping for death to befall on the prattling girl quickly.

…

**Prompt: **Pumpkin Juice

**Word Count:** 815 :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So...third one... sigh. This one is more centered around the prompt than my other ones. Yay me. I'm not very fond of this one, even if it is my longest. I'll survive! Oh and a shout out to Karla (again) who has made it her goal to review each and every chapter. Good luck dear! Onwards to Neverland! Or the story...

…

Malfoy Manor was always thought to be a fortress of some kind. Large and imposing, stone walls looming down on you as you enter through the mile-long pathway to the door, most stayed at least twenty feet away from the wrought-iron gates. Rumor had it that the Malfoy's had a dungeon underground where the poor, tortured servants were kept until they died. The purebloods could just snatch you up and pull you into their trap. But even once they were deceased, some said that Lucius Malfoy could raise them from the servants from the dead and force the poor souls to be ghosts, serving his every whim and need for all eternity. Safe to say, these rumors were so far from the truth, that Lucius sometimes wondered if the poor man who started it all had been under a spell of some kind.

For centuries, rumor after rumor, myth after myth, built up, surrounding Malfoy Manor in a mysterious aura of fear. Even as the press would once-in-a-while feed a ridiculous rumor of the evil happenings going around the Manor to the rest of the wizarding world, the Malfoy men were too content to shoot them down. Merlin knows they could squash the press like a pancake and rip them into shreds if they even dared to lift a finger. But of course, the annoying men refused, claiming that the rumors gave them all a mysterious presence, striking fear into enemies' hearts. So year after year, decade after decade, the rumors started to build up into a brick wall, and the men and reluctant wives did nothing to knock it down.

Yet, the poor wall had never met Narcissa Malfoy.

…

When Narcissa Black was first brought to Malfoy Manor, her first thought was, _EWWW! This place is dirty and icky; I'm going to stain my new dress._ Of course, a crisis like this needs to be voiced, she thought. So, the young girl had turned to her mother in the carriage, head held high, nose in the air, and said in the most dignified voice she mould muster at the ripe age of five, "Mummy, the mud will ruin my new dress!" (The red cheeks and pouting mouth were used to great effect) Even with the incessant pleading, Druella Black just shook her head adamantly and brought her daughter into the dirty castle.

The inside of Malfoy Manor was just as horrible and neglected as the front, or so Narcissa believed. The gardens could not even be considered adequate gardens. Half of the flowers were long gone, the rose bushes were bare, and the grass was dried up to a crisp. The landscape looked like a cemetery. The youngest Black had always thought of herself as a young designer, and as she stared at the barren wall in deep contemplation, she could already picture the color scheme, the furniture, everything needed to make her soon-to-be home (even at five, 'Cissa already knew she was to be the next Mrs. Malfoy) more comfortable and just _home_-y.

So, at the wonderful age of eighteen, Narcissa became the newest Mrs. Malfoy, and with that package, came a expert team of designers, carpenters, painters, and anything else she was sure to need as she took on the task of renovating the whole castle. Lucius was not the happiest when he noticed a legion of cabana boys ready to cater to her every whim, wiping sweat off her brow, fetching drinks, etc. But, when he questioned the woman if she was cheating on him _already, _Narcissa just glared at him sternly, saying that the dear cabana boys were there for her well-being and to help make the project go by smoothly.

Not to say that Lucius was all set and ready for his new wife to change his beloved, cold, childhood home into a woman's sanctuary. No, he had represented the opposing team from the very start. After all, the ritual of a rumor surrounded Manor had been passed down, generation after generation, separating ordinary _people_, and _Malfoys_. Yet, every time he tried to bring up a point on _why_ she should not try to fix the Manor, he was met with a deft ear and raised eyebrow. Safe to say, after a month of sleeping on the hard, uncomfortable couch, Lucius relented.

His wife was set and determined to tear that wall down. It stood no chance. He mourned its passing in silence.

…

Five years later, Draco Lucius Malfoy was born, and to the chagrin of Lucius Malfoy, the renovations were not even close to being done. Even after a stressful birth and obligation to stay with her angelic baby, the new mother only waited five months before going at it again. _Only _the front yard, West Wing, Master Suite, and kitchen were done after all.

So now, fifteen years later, when Draco turned age ten, the Malfoy Manor was finally, _completely_ done. Scrubbed and cleaned from top to bottom, left to right, the once considered "scary castle" no longer fit the imposing name. Lucius was reluctant to admit he became a little saddened (a little mind you) that the Manor no longer seemed quite so feared as it once was, now turned into a family home.

The cold stone walls stayed the same, yet they were now covered artistically with gathering and climbing vines of beautiful flowers. The front yard now was groomed to perfection, dew drops glittering in the dying sun as a few tasteful trees dotted the land. Albino peacocks strutted on the grass as house elves cleaned the stone pathway.

Inside, the cold walls that not-so-long-ago were stared at by Narcissa, were painted pleasing and calming peaches. Penciled on were intricate designs of gold that took a year alone to finish. Tapestries hung on all the walls, flower vases on vanities, bringing in an exotic smell to the walls. Soft carpet replaced tile and the kitchen was totally demolished. In its place stood the most high-tech, clean kitchen the wizarding world had to offer. Gleaming pots and pans lined the walls. Ovens and knives were charmed to be kid-friendly, yet cook any dish to perfection. It was  
>a chef's dream.<p>

...

Yet, as she stared out the window, silent in contemplation, Narcissa was struck by the fact that she was once again, bored. After so many years of hard labor to strike down the legends and myths and flip the place inside-out, Narcissa was now left with nothing to do. Draco stayed at Hogwarts most years, and Lucius was off doing who-knows-what with who-knows-who. So, that very night, as the pale adults slipped under the covers, resembling marble statues, she turned to her husband and asked with wide blue eyes shining,

"Lucius dear, where is that summer home of yours?

…

**Pairing:** Lucius/Narcissa

**Prompt**: Malfoy Manor

**Word Count: **1130


End file.
